The scene is poignant. A husband, very tired after a long day of work is sitting on the comfy couch. The infant, barely 2 years old is trying to match the cards from the cheap animal "snap" pack from her birthday. Glowing to the side, on the red couch, her eyes sparkling sits the one with the secret. She fairly trembles with it.
Pulling the husband's hand they walk into the bedroom. It's a scene ripped straight from a vaseline lensed soap opera. It's amazing the violins aren't swelling at this point. The trembling intensifies and the sparkling eyes shimmer until suddenly like a dam bursting she doubles over wracked with sobs.
*screeeeeeeech goes the music as it comes to an abrupt halt*
The relaxed and boyishly hopeful look has gone from the confused husband's face and instead concern and impotence knits his brows together. This is obviously not for a rare afternoon interlude that he's been lead back to the bedroom. "what's wrong? Sweetie what's wrong? It's OK. I love you. What's wrong?"
She tries talking but instead it comes out as more strangled choking sobs. Her knees curled up to her chest she unfurls them and heads to the ensuite cabinet. Picking up the hateful piece of plastic she sobs some more as she hands it to him. She is fearful of his reaction ad scrunches her eyes tight, her head down nestled against that spot on his shoulder.
She expects panic, fear, devastation maybe even anger. Sensations that have ripped at her acutely all afternoon. He has made it plain that he's happy with where they are now, there was no suggestion of this. She looks up, steeling herself for crushing pain. But he is smiling. Widely. Shaking a little with laughter as he folds her into his arms and caresses the back of her neck.
She collapses into him, relief that someone in this situation is doing OK. He kisses her brow and starts to talk. Soothing words, soft caressing voice. "It's OK, it's ok, it's ok". The sobs lessen into sniffles and she wipes her nose on her sleeve. "I *hic* thought you'd be *hic* upset... I thought you'd want us to 'deal' with it". His faces shows distaste for the first time. He pulls her in closer and whispers into her hair "I love you, we will deal with this, we will be OK. It's all going to be OK".
She sobs some more, discombobulated by his care and affection and the genuine happiness on his face. As it calms down, as she sources some toilet paper to blow her nose she turns around to say something profound and loving. Instead "Well at least we don't have to worry about getting pregnant any more".